


We'll Build Even Stronger Wings, Just This Time... Together (Jack Barakat)

by AMelancholySunshine



Category: All Time Low (Band)
Genre: F/M, Family, Marriage Proposal, diaries, references to past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:40:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23514058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AMelancholySunshine/pseuds/AMelancholySunshine
Summary: As Jack asks you a life-altering question using a message from your deceased grandmother, you're left to reflect on how strong your butterfly wings have gotten over the years and how with Jack on your side, they'll get even stronger.Based on this photo:   https://mylovelyhopefullifetolive.tumblr.com/post/614667454855200768/well-build-even-stronger-wings-just-this-time
Relationships: Jack Barakat/You
Kudos: 1
Collections: Bandom Fanfiction





	We'll Build Even Stronger Wings, Just This Time... Together (Jack Barakat)

"How many journals do you _have_?"

Jack's loud question startles you as he kneels in front of the massive oak chest containing your childhood and teenage journals, the flipping through the assortment of paper and penmanship types with amazement his attempt at helping you organize the living room in your new apartment.

Glancing between him and the wooden construction, from where you stand across him, in the center of the room, you shrug, shoulders pointed and lips pouted as you reply, "I haven't counted. I've been writing for more or less 20 years, so maybe 350, maximum 500?"

"What's the story behind this one?" He replies curiously, picking up a journal at what seems like random, then extending his arm to hand it to you.

"Jack" you gasp sadly once the hardcover pink spine lies in your palms, the emotional weight of the 80-page, iridescent notebook featuring a cartooned panda and cursive " _Notes_ ,” bringing back both tear-driven painful, yet honorable memories.

"This is the last one I gave to my grandmother, the one where I wrote my final words, in the hopes that she'd get to read them." you whisper. Then, regretfully, that fate hadn't wanted it that way, you add, "She didn't though, because in her final moments, my mom and I read to her and she passed before we got to the last entry." Feeling an emotion similar as to when you spoke at the funeral, evident in your choked voice, you recall honorably, " _but_ , I live with the thought that, according to my mom, when it was given to her, she lit up because I brought her so much joy."

"Why don't you open it?" He suggests softly and when you look towards him, his expression is solemn, only fueling the fact that you terribly miss her.

"How can you ever _think_ about that?" You cry, completely in disbelief that he'd suggest such a thing in your state, then defeated, explain, "I can't, Jack. Not now. It's too hard"

"(Y/N), it's been six months. Plus, maybe it could bring back some happy memories?" He offers cheerfully, suggesting this to be a form of grief therapy.

As the image of her taking delight in vanilla ice cream—and by extension, how her selfness was still present in her last moments, manifested by the fact that she asked your mom to give yourself and your brother some too—as well as the one of hearing her whisper, " _What can I say about you guys_?" after telling her how much you loved her and appreciated her, you relent, choosing to push away the negative recollections of the frail, cold and pale body placed in a hospital bed in your grandparents' living room.

When you open the journal, however, a warm sensation tingling in the tips of your fingers, as if her spirit was present, you're confused to find your mom's handwriting covering several yellow sticky notes taped across the first two blank pages of the journal, under the dates covered by the journal. Not having been the one to put them there, curiosity pushes you to read this mysterious note further, in the process, nostalgic sensations bubbling up to the surface.

" _Princess,_

_As you know, I'm too weak to write, so I asked your mom to instead._

_I really, I mean_ really _wanted to finish this journal and all the other journals you'll finish, but life doesn't work that way, does it? It's the circle of life (Y/N). My body is tired and it’s time I joined my mother, father and sister._

_I know I've told you countless times that your journals have helped me in ways you can't imagine, have saved my life even, when I was in atrocious pain and saw no joy in living. I'm telling you again now because you have a gift and by no means should you ever stop writing. Don't give up on your gift, instead spend 15 minutes every day perfecting it._

_The truth is, after all these years, it's now time you start to write for yourself and not for me anymore. Feel free to add any details you'd otherwise omit. Don't worry, though, I'll be in heaven reading them._

_Make me a promise that you won't stop and that you'll share your talent with the world._

_By the way, I never really expressed how fond I was of Jack, who really couldn't be a better match for you. He grounds you and brings out the best in you like you do him. I'm so content you found each other and that I was there to see the potential he brings out in you._

_When you finish this note, he's going to ask you something. If you don't say "yes,” well, you better, OR ELSE!_

_Your grandmother who will eternally love you and be in spirit._

_Grandmolita Maria_

"What was it that you wanted to ask me, Jack?" You ponder, as you swivel your body towards him, wondering what he could possibly want you to agree it, only to be shocked by a sight that has you, in succession, squeal in surprise, drop your diary to the ground, a _thud_ resonating, and to place your now empty hands over your open mouth to contain your excitement.

" (Y/N), you’re everything I love about the things I hate in me, from your quirkiness to you just being _you_. There's not a day on this universe that I don't want to spend with you. So, will you do me the biggest honor and marry me?" He asks, down on one knee, palms open to reveal a sparkling engagement band, wide brown eyes gleaming, yet hopeful, and a grin stretched across his lips.

Momentarily taken aback by the gesture, you remain speechless, obviously, not aiding Jack's anxious heart, then as you begin to comprehend just how perfectly _tailored_ the ordeal was: the inclusion of your trademark diaries, your family and your grandmother, who, in her last moments, somewhat blessed the union, on top of the proposal being in your natural environment, you cry out due to being overwhelmed, but above all, for him knowing you so well, "Yes, Jack, I'll marry you!"

Moments later, as you're caught up in his embrace, your head resting comfortably on his chest, its rate stabilizing with his anxiety calming, his lips on the top of your head, your arms interlaced around one each other's backs, a sudden thought flashes through your brain, one that has you violently tear away from him, taking him by surprise.

"This means that I'm going to have the call my landlord and ask him not to renew my lease for next year!"

At Jack watches you, glowing from the sun's rays, preoccupied by such a trivial thing like spousal living arrangements, he grins widely to himself in amusement and slaps his palm over his squinted shut left eye, both actions a sign of happy disbelief, as if to say, " _You see that woman over there? The one who, after I proposed to her, automatically thought about telling her landlord she'd be moving out? Yeah, well, she's my fiancée now and I wouldn't change anything about her or this moment, for that matter. "In sickness and in health, till death do us part?", right? Whatever the expression is, it describes our relationship._

________

That night, as you lay in bed, performing your daily ritual of writing in your journal, a peculiar feeling surges through your fingertips as you not only feel an added, yet comfortable weight on your ring finger, but also start a new journal, this one illustrated and titled" Butterfly Wings."

It is the one that was given to you by your English teacher senior year as a graduation and birthday present, and because you'd been so touched by her gesture, that is her telling you not to let your shyness stop you from succeeding and in doing so, giving you your "butterfly wings", you'd made a secret vow to only use it when a life-changing and maturing event would occur.

And what better event than a marriage proposal? After all, didn't this mean that you'd broken out of your shell and had gone out into the "real world,” and in doing so, had found your soulmate? In an unexpected manner, of course, but isn't that how true love works?

" _Dear Iris_ ," you begin your entry using the name you had set for your diaries as a child, then referencing the photo you had taped in the journal's reserved space of you and Jack play fighting on your couch, the sparkling aspect of your ring on display.

" _Mrs. Kourtsoglou would be so proud of me. Not only am I using her journal, but I also think she'd agree that my butterfly wings are fully grown by now and not weak like when she gave them to me._

_The proof is on this picture and on my finger. Jack asked me to marry him today. Iris, he thought about EVERYTHING; asking Nonna Maria to dictate a message approving our union before she died, then having Mom paste it in the "last" journal, making me discover it while it was just the two of us cleaning up my new living room, and then getting down on one knee._

_It might have been just the two of us in that room, but, Iris, I know that spiritually, she was there with us, giving Jack the courage to ask me if I'd become his wife and me, the nonsense to agree wholeheartedly._

_With her "OR ELSE", She didn't give me much of a choice, but as if I would have said no._

_Previously, it was only Mom, Dad, my siblings and my grandparents that knew how I couldn't live without family and writing, but Jack, he downright included all of that in a freakin' MARRIAGE proposal. I swear, Iris, I feel like I'm falling in more and more in love with that man every day._

_I guess it's because he knows me too well. I sure hope he thinks the same about me._

_It's still fresh this ring and the notion that I won't be Ms. (Y/L/N), but Mrs. Barakat, but I take it in stride. It's another part of my life that will make me responsible and mature. I'm not going to have a boyfriend to look over, but a husband. And maybe down the road, children whom I will call my own._

_It's daunting all of this change, marriage, living together, being intimate, having children and making decisions together, but I take pride in knowing that Jack and I will have each other, and in doing so, we will develop even stronger butterfly wings than we already have, just this time . . . together._

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! As I have a habit of including personal information in my stories, I wanted to let you know that except for the whole proposal part and note, all other elements are true. So, I would like to thank you for investing your time in something so personal to me. It makes the sadness not as bad and I know my grandmother would be proud.
> 
> On a another one, you may have noticed a slight reference to All Time Low's song ''You're My Favorite Place (feat. The Band Camino). If you haven't checked out ATL's new album, ''Wake Up, Sunshine'', I truly recommend you do! Like it's name, it's literal sunshine. Truly, it's an album I didn't think I needed... If you need a pick me up, please listen!
> 
> Well, that's enough for now! Once more, thank you so much for reading and as usual, comments, bookmarks and kudos are heavily appreciated!


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